


Which Wizard

by Minervas_Revenge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 05:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9972056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minervas_Revenge/pseuds/Minervas_Revenge
Summary: Auror Malfoy drinks Polyjuice Potion for what should have been a quick assignment but his mission is complicated by the naked witch tied to the bed. WARNING: Dubious consent (mistaken identity).





	

**Author's Note:**

> Started: December 23, 2016  
> A/N: Felt like writing a little smut and presto!

**Prologue**

 

“Thanks for lunch, Harry. You didn’t have to bribe me to come along, you know,” Hermione said. She and Harry were in Ministry of Magic’s Department of Recruitment, filling out applications.

 

“Sure you don’t want to go for Auror?” Harry grinned, nudging Hermione’s arm with his elbow.

 

“I’m ready for some quiet,” Hermione announced, brows high. “I’m surprised Ginny’s letting you,” she added in a low tone.

 

Harry grinned in response. “Ginny _understands_ me.”

 

“You’re lucky to have that,” Hermione said wistfully. She attempted to keep her tone light but she knew that Harry understood what she wasn’t saying. Ron chose Quidditch over a relationship with Hermione. She was glad they didn’t attempt to make something work that wouldn’t but she missed having a boyfriend.

 

“I’m surprised you’re applying to the Department of Mysteries, knowing what’s down there.”

 

“I’m sure there are secrets still,” Hermione smirked.

 

_“You’re applying for Auror?”_

 

Hermione and Harry turned to see Neville Longbottom, Draco Malfoy, and two other wizards filling out Ministry applications at the small tables. Teeming with indignation on behalf of her friend, Hermione got up.

 

“Is there a problem?” she asked coldly, angry gaze burning at Draco and the two wizard she didn’t know. She felt Harry stand beside her.

 

“This doesn’t concern you,” Draco said nastily to Hermione. He turned towards the unknown wizards and tilted his chin up. “Better than you can do. Applying for custodian?”

 

Hermione suddenly realized that she’d leapt to Draco’s defense – not Neville’s. She glanced at Harry and he shrugged. Not one to back out of a fight, regardless that she was defending someone that despised her, Hermione crossed her arms and fixed her best McGonagall Stare at the hecklers. They glanced at her, Harry, Draco, and then each other before scampering out of the office.

 

“Hiya, Harry. Hermione,” Neville said, breaking the awkward silence. “Auror, too?” he asked, holding up his application.

 

Hermione caught Draco staring at her and offered him a small smile. He rolled his eyes and muttered something as he sat back down to work on his application.

 

**Which Wizard**

 

“So he says, ‘ _That’s not my wand_.’”

 

“Oi, you two,” Neville’s gruff voice interrupted Harry’s chortle at Draco’s lewd joke. While the three of them had become Aurors together, Neville’s zeal for catching dark wizards pushed him to the top of their ranks.

 

“Got an assignment for you,” Neville announced, thunking an ominous bottle down on the desk between Harry and Draco.

 

“I’m _not_ drinking that,” Harry said, immediately recognizing Polyjuice Potion.

 

“Don’t care which of you drinks it. Got a tip that your old pal, Marcus Flint, might be selling Ministry secrets.”

 

“I’ll tail Flint!” Harry announced, zipping up out of his chair and around the corner before Draco could jinx him.

 

Draco let him get away; he was thinking about Flint. The last he’d heard, Marcus was a dark wizard sympathizer but he hadn’t taken serious action.

 

“That leaves you searching his flat,” Neville said. “The potion will only last you an hour.”

 

* * *

 

Draco watched the Diagon Alley flat until he was certain his path was clear – no inhabitants and no neighbors. He uncorked the bottle and drank as much of the Polyjuice Potion that he could. After a few uncomfortable moments, he proceeded up the exterior stairwell to Flint’s door and spelled it open.

 

“Marcus! Get in here right this second!” trilled an angry woman.

 

Draco cursed under his breath. Since when did Flint have a girlfriend? There was nothing for it, he would have to face the witch.

 

“Marcus!” she yelled, again. As he followed the voice, he thought there was something familiar about it. He must know her. Upon swinging open the bedroom door, Draco stopped cold.

 

Oh, he knew the witch. And, now, he knew her even better.

 

Hermione Granger, in all of her glory, was tied to the bed; one limb per post.

 

“You must untie me, Marcus. I can appreciate a bit of masochism but this is too far…” she said crossly.

 

Draco blinked and attempted to pull a plan together but he simply couldn’t. Hermione Granger was helpless before him, begging him to untie her… She had quite luscious curves…

 

“Why should I untie you?” Draco rumbled, finding his voice.

 

“I’m not joking, Marcus. I thought our arrangement was clear but I had no idea you would tie me up and leave me for an hour!”

 

‘Arrangement?’ Was this new, then? And only physical? That would explain why Draco, _not to mention Harry_ , hadn’t heard about it.

 

“It can be freeing to be tied-up,” Draco said, sitting beside the irate witch. He openly ogled her – it was what Flint would do.

 

“Either you untie me or you do to me what you promised…” she purred.

 

Draco quirked a brow. The witch wanted him.

 

“I don’t remember what I promised but there’s plenty I’d like to do,” he replied. Draco wanted nothing more than to pinch her buttocks and suckle her dusky nipples until she writhed under him.

 

_She would never know._

 

“What do you mean you don’t remember?” she demanded.

 

The glee Draco felt at her frustration combined with his growing fascination with her naked body, pushed him to touch her. He slid his hand up her hip and across her soft stomach, mesmerized by her flawless skin. Desire burned hotter in him with each passing second. 

 

He could play Marcus.

 

Sucked into the fantasy, Draco suddenly climbed onto the bed and settled between her legs. He pressed his lips against her fleshy thigh and slid his arms under her knees. She gasped and moaned as he kissed his way slowly up her legs. When he reached the crux of her thighs, Draco found her wet and hot. He slipped his tongue delicately between her folds, tasting and teasing. Hermione strained against her bonds and gave breathy whimpers that sent pleasurable waves through Draco’s body. He wanted the witch desperately.

 

Trying not to think about the consequences, Draco sat up and removed his robes with a hasty spell. He paused for a moment to espy limbs that did not belong to him.

 

“Please, Marcus,” Hermione crooned.

 

“Remind me what I promised you,” he growled.

 

A catty grin curled Hermione’s lips.

 

“You promised to fuck me until I couldn’t walk,” she said. “Were you afraid I’d change my mind? Is that why you tied me up?” she teased.

 

Looking down at her, a witch that Draco recently called friend and had secretly yearned for, for years, was begging him to fuck her. But she didn’t know it was him. What the hell was she doing with a brute like Flint?

 

He couldn’t do it. Actually, he _could_ but he’d never be able to look her in the eye, again. Channeling Flint to the best of his memory, Draco picked up his wand and released Hermione’s ankles and wrists.

 

“Sorry, Luv. You’re not enough witch for me,” he said.

 

Draco was mystified to hear Hermione chuckle as she sat up and opened the bedside table drawer. He went still to see her pull out her wand. What was she doing? Why wasn’t she fleeing in tears?

 

“Drop your wand,” she ordered, leveling her wand at Draco’s face.

 

“I’m Draco,” he said, astonished. Uncertainty lit through him as he backed away. What was going on?

 

“Drop your wand,” Hermione repeated, laughing.

 

“Drop yours,” he countered. For some reason, he found it difficult to point his wand at her.

 

A wordless spell ripped the wand out of Draco’s hand and he found the wall at his back.

 

“Well, this isn’t Marcus’ wand…” she murmured.

 

“I’m Draco, Hermione,” he repeated.

 

With a curious look, Hermione studied Draco.

 

“Polyjuice, is it?”

 

At Draco’s nod, Hermione grinned.

 

“You went down on me before letting me up, _Draco_ ,” she said with a smug smile.

 

Confused, Draco shrugged. She wasn’t going to hex his balls off? Just as he started to relax, Hermione motioned for him to get on the bed.

 

“Your turn,” she said. “On the bed.”

 

“What?” he asked, dumbfounded.

 

Draco held his breath as Hermione slid her hand slowly down between her breasts, across her stomach, and between her thighs. He couldn’t help his body’s response; he’d fantasized being with Hermione countless times but never under her wand.

 

“You want me,” she crooned, eyes darting to Draco’s obvious interest. “Get on the bed.”

 

Yes, he wanted her.

 

“What for? Going to tie me up and leave me here?”

 

“No, that’s what Slytherins do… Apparently,” Hermione replied with an amused but biting glare. She tapped her wand against her thigh impatiently.

 

Draco stared at Hermione. He did not think that his most wished-for fantasies would be granted by surrendering to her but there was a tantalizing hope in him that she might... If he couldn’t have her mind and soul, he’d happily take her body. He moved towards the bed.

 

“Lay down,” she instructed in a low voice.

 

Draco obeyed. He’d wanted Hermione for years; if it was possible to touch her again, he’d do as she asked. He wasn’t surprised to feel spells bind his arms and legs just as hers had been.

 

“Is this necessary?” he drawled.

 

“Indeed,” Hermione purred. “You see, I’m not convinced you’re not Marcus and I owe you some… Discomfort. How long ago did you take the potion?” Hermione asked, eyes narrow.

 

Draco glared at the ceiling. He was expected to answer a question like that? Blood was still returning to his brain.

 

“Forty minutes, maybe,” he muttered darkly.

 

“At least twenty more minutes of torture, then,” Hermione grinned.

 

Draco lifted his head to look at her. She was enjoying this!

 

“Now, a cup of tea is in order.”

 

“I swear I’m not Marcus!” he hollered after her.

 

“We shall see,” she called back.

 

Draco tested the magic of his bindings; he wasn’t going anywhere. He closed his eyes but couldn’t escape the image of Hermione’s lovely, little body on display like a holiday buffet. With a groan, Draco forced himself to focus on something else.

 

After what seemed like much longer than twenty minutes, Draco heard Hermione clear her throat. She stood in the doorway, wearing a black robe that was open down the front. Draco swallowed.

 

Hermione shook her head.

 

“Well, Marcus, you’re still you,” she crooned.

 

Without preamble, Hermione settled between Draco’s legs and mimicked his earlier treatment of her. She placed butterfly kisses up his thighs, making him twitch and gasp – that tickled! When wet warmth enveloped his cock, his eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned. But the wonderful sensation stopped and he snapped out of black pleasure.

 

“I think you like being tied up,” Hermione said.

 

She leaned on his thigh and rasped her fingernails through the hair on his leg. Draco cringed, the potential for pain pulling at him.

 

“If you are Draco, I am truly sorry.”

 

Draco snorted and let his head fall back. He didn’t believe that in the least. He felt her move down towards his feet and gave a shocked gasp to feel her mouth encircle one of his toes. Gasping, horrified laughter escaped him.

 

“No! No! Stop that!” he yelled, unable to twist away. He’d never known tickling could be so excruciating.

 

“You’re ticklish!” Hermione laughed.

 

“Don’t do that, again,” Draco growled.

 

“Maybe this will make it up to you,” Hermione replied softly, moving to lay beside him. He was healthily aware of her soft breasts against his side and she slid one leg over his. The fingers tracing swooping designs across his chest held his attention until he felt her shift closer. Draco turned his head to look at her and found himself caught in a kiss. Hermione’s lips were one of his favorite features and he rather hated to be kissing her with someone else’s mouth.

 

Draco forgot all about his appearance as Hermione’s wandering hand found his erection and began teasing him. Her fingers explored his length with precise strokes. She broke their kiss to reach farther and fondle his balls. Draco groaned in desire as she gently massaged him. Her lips pressed wet kisses down his throat and chest. When she took his cock between her lips, once more, Draco damn near bowed off the bed.

 

Hermione sucked him with slow strokes that snapped Draco’s self-control. He lifted his hips as much as he could, begging her for release. He growled when she stopped but she did so only to straddle him. The sensation of Hermione’s wet, hot depths slipping down over his cock was more wonderful than he could have imagined. If only his limbs were free so that he could flip her over and fuck her into the mattress.

 

Draco decided right then that he despised being tied up. He was utterly helpless under Hermione. He wanted to pound into her from every angle imaginable but no, he was stuck under her maddeningly slow pace.

 

“Release me,” he growled.

 

Hermione met his frustrated gaze and hesitated.

 

“Your eyes… _You’re not Marcus_ ,” she said, stilling atop him.

 

“I said as much,” Draco snapped. “Release me, now.”

 

“Draco?” she asked, face going white.

 

“Yes, Hermione,” Draco said darkly. Her expression of surprise and then fear told Draco that the potion must have worn off.

 

“I thought you were Marcus,” she said, looking away. She climbed awkwardly off of Draco and picked up her wand. She glanced thoughtfully at him, considering.

 

“What are you doing? Just release me,” Draco said, suddenly concerned.

 

“I was wondering if I should Obliviate you,” Hermione said, wand hand trembling.

 

“That’s not necessary,” Draco said, gentling his tone. He needed to convince her that he was not angry and not a threat. “Please, don’t. I don’t want to forget this for anything…”

 

“You… You don’t?”

 

Draco shook his head, forcing himself to calm. He wanted to erase that look of fear from her eyes.

 

“I’ve wanted you for years, Hermione,” he confessed, feeling his cheeks darken. As a rule, he did not confess anything. “And I very willingly got into this bed. Remember?”

 

Hermione nodded and Draco felt his wrists and ankles released from the leather straps. He sighed and rubbed his wrists as he sat up. Hermione watched him warily.

 

“I’d be glad to fuck you until you can’t walk,” Draco offered.

 

“I had no idea,” she said lamely. “I wish I’d known that before…”

 

“Before Flint?” Draco supplied. He tilted his head. “But it worked out, you see. Here we are.”

 

Hermione huffed.

 

“You think it’s a good idea for us to fuck in Marcus’ bed?” she panned.

 

“I wouldn’t rule it out, entirely.”

 

Hermione laughed in disbelief and shook her head.

 

Draco took advantage of her good humor and pulled her to stand between his knees.

 

“Give me my wand and we may continue this discussion in a private location,” Draco promised.

 

Hermione leaned over and kissed him. Draco forgot it all and focused only on the witch he’d never dreamed to possess, in his arms.

 

* * *

 

“Hermione?”

 

“Hi Harry,” Hermione said, looking up from her desk with a smile. “What brings you down to the Department of Mysteries?”

 

“I just wanted to check on you. Draco said he saw you this morning and thought you might be limping.”

 

Harry had no explanation for Hermione’s sudden, murderous expression and realized Draco had set him up to spring a joke on her. He quickly backed away and escaped before she took her anger out on him.


End file.
